


Knight of Wands: Jim Prideaux and Bill Haydon

by PegasusWrites



Category: LE CARRE John - Works, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - All Media Types, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: I swear, Light Angst, M/M, Memories, Post-Canon, this was supposed to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16125611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PegasusWrites/pseuds/PegasusWrites
Summary: Bill acts impulsively. Jim is concerned.





	Knight of Wands: Jim Prideaux and Bill Haydon

“Let’s have a picnic.”

Jim scratched his head and looked up from the file in front of him. He scrunched up his face, thinking that he must have fallen asleep at his desk. Jim didn’t normally dream, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

“It’s four o’clock,” Jim told Bill. “I don’t leave this place for at least another hour.”

Jim did - in fact - expect to be in his office for another two hours at the least, but he didn’t mention this to Bill. He didn’t fancy being lectured for overworking.

Bill shook his head and blew his forelock out of his eyes.

“Percy Alleline went home at lunchtime,” Bill said. “Toby was clearing out by the time I left. Come on Jim, it’s Friday.”

“Like that makes any difference around here,” said Jim, with a weak smile. His chest was full of … some feeling. Years ago he would have given anything for Bill to have swept him off his feet like this. Now, Bill’s impulsiveness - his indiscretion - scared Jim. What was the matter with him? Had something happened at HQ? Was he in the early stages of a breakdown? But there Bill was, leaning on the door frame and looking so happy and healthy that it was hard to believe anything was wrong with the world, let alone with Bill. So Jim pushed his hair out of his eyes, sighed, then began to tidy up his desk.

“Good man,” said Bill, ebullient. “I’ve got the car outside - I’ll be waiting in the usual space. Don’t be too long, mind.”

Then Bill was gone.

Jim was afraid. Jim was excited. Jim went to the duty officer and told him that they needed him at HQ. He apologised a little too conspicuously.

He found Bill smoking in a second-hand car across the road from the Brixton stables. He tapped on the window.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” said Bill, once he had finished furiously rolling the window down.  
Jim nudged Bill over onto the passenger seat. “Where did you find this thing?”

“Don’t you like her?”

“She’s not bad,” said Jim, turning the key in the ignition and putting the car into reverse. “I was just wondering what happened to your old car.”

“I outgrew her,” said Bill. “You know how things are.”

“Yeah.”

Jim pulled them out of the space, and the two of them drove off into a lazy late-afternoon London.

*

Bill, in all his harebrained enthusiasm, hadn’t decided where he wanted them to have their picnic. They ended up driving to Bill’s studio and climbing out onto the roof through the skylight. It wasn’t the most picturesque setting. Bill had to poke a dead pigeon out of the guttering and swipe away an assortment of plane leaves before they could settle down, but once the rug was laid out and they were sitting on it side by side, Jim felt content. Besides, the view from the roof was beautiful.

“What made you dream this one up, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Bill was wrestling the cork out of the top of a wine bottle. “I suppose I wanted to do something nice. You’re the only person I can can have any fun with.”

“You know that’s not true,” said Jim, but he didn’t argue further. Even he liked to be lied to, occasionally. He stretched his legs out in front of him and turned his face up towards the sun.

“Look,” said Bill. “The summer’s almost gone. Before you know it, it will be rain, rain, and more rain. When a day this nice falls into your lap, it’s criminal not to do something with it. And besides, why would you want to sit behind a desk when you could be out in the sun?”

“You have a point,” said Jim, trying not to imagine ten different types of crisis breaking out at once while he was gone.

Bill got the bottle open, and poured two glasses of something white - Jim couldn’t quite see the label. Bill handed a glass to Jim.

“Cheers.”

Jim returned the toast. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea after all, he decided, to leave work early. Sometimes. At least, when a friend asked you to.

*

The picnic wasn't some sort of elaborate foreplay. Perhaps, for Jim, that was why the memory of it was so uncomplicated. As the years went by, Jim's sexual encounters with Bill were increasingly fraught. Two years after this evening on the roof, Jim found himself staring at the ceiling of a soviet prison. He couldn’t say that he knew, deep down, that Bill was the person who had put him there, because that wasn’t entirely true.

Even so, he had known that was something wrong with Bill, even as they sat together on the roof of Bill’s studio, swapping jokes and eating sandwiches. Jim couldn't think of more than a handful of ways that a man in Bill’s position could go bad. And Bill was going bad, that much was certain - only Jim had always blamed this on the top floor. Jim reasoned that spending your days cooped up with that bunch of neurotics would drive even the most decent men to desperation, and Bill had never been a team player, not exactly.

By all rights, Jim should have made every effort to forget his life before the fall. Still, on days when Jim found himself holed up in his caravan - listening to the shrieks of schoolboys in the field outside, or the rain falling softly on the aluminium roof - it was this afternoon and other like it that he returned to. It was easier to think of Bill kindly when one remembered him bathed in late-afternoon sun, on a warm autumn day in London.

**Author's Note:**

> I would _love_ to write even one Haydeaux that doesn't turn into a story about Bill...
> 
> Thanks again to [AreYouReady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouReady/pseuds/AreYouReady) for helping me to stay motivated.
> 
> This story was written for [All Bingo's](https://allbingo.dreamwidth.org/) [1000 Words or Less Fest](https://allbingo.dreamwidth.org/113827.html). Find my bingo card [here](https://pegasuswrites.dreamwidth.org/14005.html).


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